


love to see me (from your point of view)

by boner



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boner/pseuds/boner
Summary: "Yeah,” Shoyo answers. “You look good, like you’ve always belonged here.”Atsumu wants to say something sweet, likeoh, I’ve always belonged wherever you are, that's all there is to it, but before he can open his mouth his brain has picked up the wordsyou look goodand then just fucking ran the other direction. His brain is missing. All he has with him at the moment is his heart and his dick. Which is starting to feel a little restless in his board shorts.Huh, Atsumu thinks to himself. Huh.In the midst of a vacation in Rio de Janeiro, Atsumu realizes he has a praise kink - and that Shoyo has one too.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 22
Kudos: 107





	love to see me (from your point of view)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflame/gifts).



> for arin, who i love and adore dearly, and enabled this fic in so many ways. i need everyone who ever comes across this fic to go say thank you to her right now, seriously. she's an incredible friend and a wonderful writer and she deserves only love. also not to like . completely out myself as a total perv for vulgar, ostentatious smut but tagging this fic with mirror sex, praise kink and plot what plot made me phase through my seat 
> 
> arin - here's to many more unhinged discord yellings!! thank you T-T ily a lot, i am beyond appreciative of your support and your patience. 
> 
> title is from ariana grande's pov. i hope you enjoy <3

Miya Atsumu unpacks a praise kink on his first day in Rio de Janeiro with his toes in the sand and a fist desperately trying to pull his tank top over a growing boner.

Let’s back up a little: 

They’re at the beach. Shoyo had said something about taking Atsumu to his home, and then to his _other home_ , and the first one had meant meeting his mom and his sister, and then other was the large, seaside city that Shoyo carved for himself on this sunny, sandy part of the world.

Outdoor volleyball is exhilarating in ways that are both new and familiar to Atsumu. The chase of it, the strong, heady feeling each time he manages to get the ball soaring exactly the way he means to. Even better; Shoyo is an excellent teacher. He’s clear with his instructions, never makes Atsumu feel bad for anything he’s still figuring out, and so generous with his praise. Atsumu has always liked flattery, even the airy, hollow-sounding ones from the reporters who don’t get volleyball the same way he does. But it’s so loaded, when it's from Shoyo. Especially now, he thinks, when each word out of Shoyo’s mouth is full and weighty. It sparks something in the pit of his gut, crawls underneath his skin and simmers there, makes him hotter than the sun could for all its burning overhead.

“You’re _such_ a fast learner, ‘Tsumu,” Shoyo tells him before they switch sides. “Your ball control is so good, even with the wind.” Atsumu preens a little, and it makes Shoyo smile a certain way. Like his eyes are different, or at least the way he looks at Atsumu is. He knows that look, just can’t quite pin where he’s seen it before. “I like seeing you here,” Shoyo continues, a little quieter.

“Here?” Atsumu asks dumbly. Shoyo spreads his arms open, gesturing to the stretch of space they’ve made for themselves. Like a little bubble of their own. Like somehow, the next person who isn’t Shoyo is a million miles away, like the sounds that aren’t from him are coming in from a gap underneath a closed door.

"Yeah,” Shoyo answers. “In Rio. With me. You look good, like you’ve always belonged here.”

Atsumu wants to say something sweet, like _oh, I’ve always belonged wherever you are, that's all there is to it_ , but before he can open his mouth his brain has picked up the words _you look good_ and then just fucking ran the other direction. His brain is missing. All he has with him at the moment is his heart and his dick. Which is starting to feel a little restless in his board shorts.

Huh, Atsumu thinks to himself. Huh. 

Okay. It's not all that big a deal, he thinks dismissively. Like, who doesn’t have a thing for their partners saying nice things to them? It’s probably pretty common, normal even. Hell, it’s probably not even a Thing. Liking flattery is Normal, and if anything else this is probably just some sick combination of jetlag and sun and _my boyfriend looks really amazing right now_ , hence the situational boner. He shakes the thought away and goes back to the game with laser focus. He takes a pause as he registers the wind direction, then jumps up to send the ball flying to Shoyo. Shoyo misses it.

“Gwoh!” he exclaims. “Oh, that was _so good_ , ‘Tsumu!” 

It’s that same freight train impact all over again, this time hits a place a little lower than his gut. All this to say - it shoots straight to his dick, and Atsumu decides, okay, maybe it is a Thing. 

"Huh," he says, out loud this time. Shoyo cocks his head at him, confused. "It's nothing," Atsumu says, pulling his tank top a little lower over the front of his shorts. Shoyo stays unmoving for a second longer, just looking at him through the net. It’s the longest moment of Atsumu’s life, Shoyo just standing there, face unreadable. And then he says, “”Tsumu, do you wanna go back to the hotel?”

Man, Shoyo catches on so fast. Atsumu feels like he’s going to pass out from the sheer weight of the question, and he mouths a silent thank you to the universe over the fact that this is Rio, and not Japan. The press would have a field day if they see him do a boner waddle back to the hotel, his perfect, gorgeous boyfriend hanging off his arm.

  
  
  


Shoyo insists on showering first, even though Atsumu is gross and is already talking about how he doesn’t mind Shoyo’s sweat on him. “We’ll get all dirty again after anyway,” he says, mouthing at the skin on Shoyo’s neck. “Still,” he laughs, cupping Atsumu’s face to kiss him on the lips. “Don’t you want to be good for me?” he asks innocently. Atsumu feels a surge of energy so strong he thinks he could punch a hole through the wall right now. 

“I can be good for you.” he answers, throat dry. So Shoyo showers, while Atsumu contemplates all the things that have happened in his life that led to this exact moment.

Shoyo had booked a fancier suite than they first planned. Or maybe it’s not that big - maybe Atsumu’s just used to sharing a bathroom with four other people at home, so sharing it with only one other person makes it feel bigger. It’s got a ribbed glass shower door on the other end of the room, and on the side of the wall hangs a plain, unframed mirror. It’s massive, almost goes from end to end. The countertop is just as large and spacious, has a sink to the left, and the rest is all free space, presumably to put their toiletries on. When it’s Atsumu’s turn, he finds the mirror all fogged up from Shoyo’s bath. He spots a smiley drawn on the steamed over mirror, dripping and funny-looking, and finds himself smiling, too. 

Atsumu showers quickly. He smells clean and soapy when he steps out of the bathroom and spots Shoyo already in bed, hair is still a little wet where it curls over their pillows. His robe is undone and he's got a finger tracing over his own rim, the other stroking himself to hardness. A bottle of lube is set on the bedside table, lid missing. Man. And Atsumu thought he was enthusiastic.

“Told ya we’d still get dirty anyway,” he starts. His towel hangs low on his hips and he tugs it off with no fanfare. Shoyo drinks in the sight of him, lets his eyes travel up and down the naked length of Atsumu’s body, and oh, he’s really laying it on thick, isn’t he? All this praise shit. Weaponizing those big, wide eyes, the lovely curve of his lips. He falls forward on the bed, caging Shoyo against it, and they start kissing in earnest. 

“What do you want,” Atsumu asks. Shoyo answers, “You,” and Atsumu stops kissing long enough to let out a warm laugh. “You’re such a sap,” he says. “I mean how do you want me.” He promised to be good for Shoyo. He’s a man of his word.

Shoyo smiles, what a divine looking thing it is, as he sits up to lean back on the headboard and takes his fingers and spreads himself open. He sinks the middle one into himself, answers, “I want you here." Atsumu’s brain goes haywire. He can do that. He will do that. 

Atsumu is good with his mouth. He knows this, the same way he knows he's good with his hands, whether in sex or in volleyball. But all this knowing doesn't cushion the blow that is Shoyo writhing in bed, moaning loud and obscene at Atsumu's mouth on him. He’s got three fingers fucking in and out of Shoyo, shiny and wet, each push and pull dragging little cries out of him. Atsumu revels in those noises. It’s an extension of that praise thing, probably, the way he knows Shoyo is coming undone, the way he knows it’s him doing that. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, right next to the slick, lewd sounds of him bobbing his head up and down Shoyo's length.

Shoyo is babbling above him. He becomes so delightfully incoherent when Atsumu sucks him off, it’s amazing. He's got his hands in Atsumu's hair, tugging in all sorts of directions like he can't decide what to do with them, and he's got a blush that goes all the way down to his chest. 

"Oh, 'Tsumu, yes, you're _so fucking good_." he croons. 

Oh my god, Atsumu thinks. It's like he can take on the world when Shoyo talks to him this way. There's no world for the taking though, at least not in this moment, so Atsumu settles for sinking his head all the way down over Shoyo's length. Shoyo comes in his mouth like that, thighs shaking, one hand fisted in his hair, the other trying to stifle his own moans. He looks like he had cried, a little.

"Sho," Atsumu says, swallowing. "You look _gorgeous_ , like this." Like this, he means: well-fucked, pleased, loved. Shoyo flushes a fresh shade of red and his cock twitches where it had been lying spent against his stomach. And then, because today is about realizations hitting him square in the fucking jaw, he goes, "Huh. So you, too." 

And then, "You know how we have that really big mirror in the bathroom?" Shoyo swallows thickly, nods his head. 

"Can I show you?" 

Shoyo’s breath catches in his throat, and it takes him a moment before he can say, "Yes."

They get straight into it in the bathroom. It's easy, so easy. Atsumu asks him how he wants him and Shoyo drapes himself over the bathroom counter like he’d known this was what he wanted all along, for Atsumu to take him here. Atsumu presses in and Shoyo lets out a sigh, head dropping between his shoulders like relief. Like oh, finally. I wanted this so long.

It’s slow. Atsumu is touching him all over as he thrusts in, out, running his hands up and down over the taut lines of Shoyo’s back. He’s propped up on his hands, body swaying forward each time Atsumu pushes back in. 

“Do you see this?” Atsumu says. He takes one hand and maneuvers Shoyo’s face so that he can look straight ahead and see himself in the mirror. The moan Shoyo lets out when he sees his reflection is obscene - him, red and sweaty and positively wrecked. Atsumu looks like something straight out of a wet dream behind him, stomach tense and tight as he fights to keep his thrusts shallow and fluid. He’s biting his lip, sweat shining on his brows and it pleases Shoyo in this deep, visceral kind of way. Shoyo’s right leg is hiked up over on the counter, hips pushed back so Atsumu can still fit himself in. “Do you see this?” Atsumu repeats, and yeah, he can see this. “I can,” he tells Atsumu, voice cracking around the words. “I want it harder.”

Atsumu groans behind him. He pulls out, and then thrusts in again, one strong, firm motion. It makes Shoyo’s whole body pitch forward. Atsumu shifts into a reckless, delicious pace and now Shoyo’s mouth is permanently open, ‘o’ shaped, brows creased, eyes rolling back into his head. Thank God for that last growth spurt, he thinks a little insanely. Made him the perfect height to be bent over a bathroom counter and get fucked. His own cock is rubbing against the flat surface of the marble counter, a cold, striking contrast to all the heat he’s feeling everywhere else around him. Atsumu kisses the back of his neck while he continues to move, all the while murmuring sweet, sweet things Shoyo can’t hope to understand right now. He's too busy reveling in each livewire touch Atsumu lays on him. He feels Atsumu place his free hand over Shoyo’s on the counter, the other still on Shoyo’s jaw, and keeps fucking him. He angles his hips down and finds Shoyo’s spot with ease. 

“Yeah, fuck, so good to me, ‘Tsumu,” he cries out. Atsumu is still pressed up against the back of his neck, soft, loving hums of, “You take it so well, you’re so good, you’re the only one.” 

Atsumu moves his fingers, the ones holding Shoyo’s chin, and dips two of them into his open mouth. Shoyo - sweet, knowing, good to him all the goddamn time - closes his lips around it, swipes his tongue around the skin. It does very little to stifle the cries he’s fucking out of Shoyo. It echoes around them in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles and back at them. “Fuck,” Shoyo groans at an especially ruthless thrust. Fuck is right. Fuck is the only thing occupying Atsumu’s brain space at this moment.

“You gonna come like this?” Atsumu teases. “Just me in you? God, you take it so fucking good.” Shoyo is choking out tiny muffled yeses around his fingers, and finally he shudders, rising up on the tips of his toes as he comes. It streaks along the bottom of the mirror, sticks to his stomach along with where he’s spilled over the counter. Atsumu comes almost immediately after. It’s just a few jerky thrusts and then he’s pushing in deep, deep, groaning as he drives himself home and releases there. Shoyo feels all of it inside, and finally, Atsumu sags against him. Shoyo leans his head back, relishes in the butterfly kisses Atsumu plants against his shoulder.

The sink is within reach, so it doesn’t take much for them to clean up. Atsumu pulls out and grabs a towel off the rack, wets it so he can wipe Shoyo down. Shoyo looks like he doesn’t want to get up from where he’s leaning over the counter, pink and glowing with his head on a hand, and Atsumu can only lean back against the counter next to him.

Bathroom sex aftercare pros; easy clean up. Cons; all hard surfaces, and Atsumu really wants to go cuddle. He moves to take another towel, a smaller one, and uses it to wipe Shoyo's face. Shoyo scrunches his nose at him, and Atsumu kisses it.

“We should probably shower again,” he says, after a moment. “Together?” Atsumu asks, sounding hopeful. “I don’t think we’d get much showering done like that.” Shoyo laughs. 

“Oh,” Atsumu says. “But isn’t that what makes it so good?”

**Author's Note:**

> the writing process for this was
> 
> >yell with arin in discord  
> >alternate between emotional/horny music on repeat and then black out for over two weeks  
> >et voilà!
> 
> speaking of which, here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7a3WXjPkeAdbJ8YTeKD71k?si=0mD_HXKXSNWX6fKRPr0jpg) i listened to while writing this! actually i think you should just go follow my [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/s1osio?si=Kak30RIlRvS_aNuHfOVlsg), if only to see what i'm listening to at the moment so u can tell what kind of horny fic im writing next. i'm very transparent like that lol
> 
> i hope this wasn't ?? spectacularly bad fhjdkfhsdk and that you enjoyed reading it?!? kudos and comments are more than welcome. i hope you have a nice day!


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